


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas at 221B Baker Street, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:23:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade + Mycroft + Mistletoe = Happy Christmas!</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Maybe I'm Amazed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062106) by [221Btls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/221Btls/pseuds/221Btls). 



> The characters aren't mine. They belong most beautifully to ACD and BBC.  
> 221Btls wrote an amazing story. GO. READ. NOW. That story made me wonder, what if Lestrade found the mistletoe....

Greg Lestrade opened the front door of 221 Baker Street with Mycroft's key and took the 17 steps up to flat B two at a time. He slammed his fist against the door, once, twice, three times.

“Dammit Sherlock! John! Open the door! I need those friggin' case notes you stole from my desk. NOW!”

No response. Well, he gave them enough chance. He used the other key he'd borrowed and opened the flat. Empty. The coffee table was unusually tidy. Maybe the kitchen table.

Lestrade avoided both the sink (something too pale and slightly pink soaked in the ice-cube filled sink) and the chair to the left of the table.

“Oh GOD. Please tell me those aren't _human_ ears...” he said, looking down at the pile on the plastic wrap lining the seat.

Lestrade pawed through piles of papers of varying height, eventually finding his evidence and notes in a folder in the fourth stack. He grabbed it and headed back out, but not before he noticed something hanging in the arch between the kitchen and living room. A quick assessment told him it wasn't human or animal and since John lived here too, likely not poison. He reached up and dislodged it from the pushpin.

“Seriously? Mistletoe?! I will never understand those two,” he said out loud and took the Christmas decoration with him.

He didn't hear the quiet giggles from Sherlock's bedroom. “From the minute he banged on the front door, I _knew_ he'd take the mistletoe to show Mycroft,” Sherlock whispered to John as they cuddled deeper under the plush duvet.

Slamming both doors, Lestrade returned to the chauffeured car. He slid in next to Mycroft, who instructed the driver to continue on to the restaurant for their weekly discussion about Sherlock's stability as New Scotland Yard consultant.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mycroft asked Greg, who looked dazed. Beyond the normal dazed after exiting that flat.

“Yes, but look what they had hanging in the kitchen!” Greg showed the mistletoe to Mycroft.

“Hmmm,”Mycroft said as he examined the plant. “Clearly mistletoe. Perhaps Sherlock is following up on Pliny the Elder's research on barrenness in animals or an antidote to poison. Or, as you are well familiar, Loki...”

Exasperated, Lestrade interrupted the know it all... “Maybe it was to kiss John!”

Mycroft's jaw dropped. “Sherlock and John...intimate?”

“Yes, Mycroft. Two men...”

“I'm well aware, Gregory, that one man can have intimate feelings for another,” Mycroft huffed.

“Are you?” he said, looking into Mycroft's eyes. 

Greg held the sprig over his friend's head and said, “Happy Christmas, Mycroft Holmes.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Mycroft's, softly at first, but as Mycroft responded, Greg allowed his deeper feelings to emerge. He released the mistletoe and cupped the nape of Mycroft's neck, pulling him in closer.

When they parted briefly, forehead to forehead, Mycroft whispered, “Happy Christmas, indeed, Gregory Lestrade.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
